When Did We Lose Harriet? (15 page)

“Felt guilty for not coming to see her poor old mama,” Claire’s own mama called from a back room. I was startled, for I hadn’t realized she’d been listening, but given the way she’d cocked her ears the first day I was on the street, I should have expected it.

Claire permitted herself a small, embarrassed frown, then admitted, “After she married William Trevor Sykes the Third, Dixie wasn’t seen much around these parts. But after her mama died, she was real put out she’d lost all that money and I was Harriet’s trustee. There wasn’t a thing she could do, of course. Bertha had put it all in her will, and explained to the lawyer who drew up the will that since I’d been managing her money all along, she wanted me to keep managing it.”

“So you have to approve things like the acting school.”

“Right. Harriet brought me a brochure around the middle of May, and said her grandmother had a cousin up there she could stay with. At first I thought it was a dumb idea, but when I checked it out, I began to think that even if she didn’t learn to act, she could learn how to hold her body and build a bit of self-esteem. I even thought she might get leads on modeling jobs using her eyes.”

“Her eyes?” That completely lost me.

“Harriet’s got gorgeous eyes. A sort of amber color, and they fill her face. I thought the acting school might put her in touch with places that want models for eye makeup. After I checked out the school, I called her grandmother’s relatives in Atlanta to be sure they’d let her stay there, and they agreed. That’s when I told Harriet she could go if she got permission. She assured me she had. I’d never have gotten her money from the bank, otherwise.”

As soon as she said “money from the bank,” I felt like I did one time when I swam out too far and went down twice before Daddy got there. “Do you remember when you went to the bank?”

She reached into her briefcase for a worn Daytimer and thumbed through. “Tuesday, June fourth. School was out, so Harriet was free. She met me at the bank at nine thirty, grumbling royally about the hour, but I had appointments the entire rest of the day.”

I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling. “Was Harriet carrying anything?”

She thought a minute. “A book, I think. Yes, a library book, because she put the money in the envelope with her brochure and stuck them both in her book. I said that that was an expensive bookmark, and warned her not to turn it in at the library by mistake.”

“Did you just leave her at the bank?” I didn’t mean to accuse, but it sounded that way.

“No, I drove her over to a teen center just off Rosa L. Parks. I wanted to take her straight to the post office, but
she said she’d go after twelve. She had to answer phones or something, because whoever was supposed to be there had to come in late. I dropped her off right in front, just a little past ten.”

“Pardon me if I seem to pry, Ms. Scott, but could you tell me how much money you took out? I found some, you see, among her things. I wonder if it was the same amount.”

Finally Claire laughed aloud, a sound like crystal breaking. “I certainly hope not. We took out three thousand dollars, in one hundred dollars bills.”

“That’s exactly what I found.” I felt as chilled as she looked.

I wondered how to ask tactfully why the dickens she’d let a fifteen-year-old walk around town with three thousand dollars in cash. The question must have shown in my face, because she said defensively, “I wanted to get a cashier’s check, but Harriet wasn’t used to checks, and insisted on getting a post office money order. She also insisted on hundred dollar bills, because she’d never seen one. I offered to drive her straight to the post office, but she was worried about being late to answer the phones. I drove her over there and dropped her off—with all that money. Hassling Harriet when she sets her mind isn’t worth the trouble.”

I didn’t really feel like offering her one speck of comfort, but honesty compelled me to remind her, “She wasn’t robbed, Ms. Scott. I have the money. It’s Harriet I can’t find.”

After that, there wasn’t anything constructive to say. Claire’s knowledge of Harriet was limited to money, and she was so upset about what she herself might have done or not done, she very soon lost sight of the child. “I shouldn’t have left her with all that money. How could I do that?” she said over and over.

I reassured her as best I could, but I’m afraid I wasn’t very convincing. By that time I was ready to blame every blooming person who ever knew the girl.

I finally took my ornery self home, fixed a glass of tea, and headed outside to see if smelling a few roses would help. Carter’s call caught me at the door.

After we’d got through the standard greetings and a report on Jake, he finally got down to business. “Was this female you wanted white? You forgot to say.”

My stomach took a plunge off a three-story building. “Yes. Why?”

“Somebody answering the description you gave me was found dead out near the airport July second. Carried no identification, and apparent cause of death was a heart attack.”

“Heart attack? Did you say heart attack?” I was having enough trouble believing Harriet was dead. A heart attack was too unexpected to take in.

“Yeah. Probably her first, but a big one. She looked like she’d been tramping a while, so she could have been in a weakened condition. Nobody’s identified her so far.”

“Do you have a description, Carter?”

“Five-six, brown hair, no identifying marks.”

“It could be the right person,” I said slowly, feeling around blindly behind me for a chair. “What was done with the body?” Dear God, please not an unmarked grave.

Carter surprised me. “She’s still down at the morgue. We keep them for a month or so, hoping for an identification. Did you say you knew her aunt?”

“Call her uncle instead. He’s the one who wouldn’t report her missing, so it’s simple justice if he has to identify her.” I told you I was feeling ornery.

I hung up feeling like a new jigsaw had turned out to be all black pieces.

It also had a big hole in the middle. If Harriet disappeared around June fourth, where had she been—and what the heck had she been doing—until July second?

Carter called back late that evening. I clutched the receiver so hard I nearly mashed it, and I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. “Was it her?”

“No. Mr. Sykes came down to see her, and he said it’s not her at all.”

I was so thankful I completely missed the beginning of Carter’s next sentence. “…so then he asked for a second look and said no, he was mistaken.”

I felt as puzzled as he sounded. “He first said it was Harriet, then changed his mind?”

“Yeah. Looked at her, nodded, and said right off, ‘Yeah, it’s her all right.’ Then, when we got halfway back down the hall, he said, ‘Could I look at her one more time?’ When he’d taken another look, he said, ‘No, I was wrong. It’s not her after all. I guess I was so upset I didn’t take a real good look.’ Freaky, isn’t it?”

The next question was real hard to ask. “Was she—you know, hard to identify?”

“Not really. And he’s absolutely certain this isn’t her.”

“He ought to know, I suppose. Keep looking for her, Carter, will you?”

“I’m real sorry, Miss MacLaren, but without a missing persons report, I don’t have authority to do that.”

“Didn’t he fill out a report while he was there?”

“I asked him about it, but he insists his niece isn’t missing. Said his wife thinks she’s gone down to her mother’s or something.”

I went to bed with a lot of unanswered questions.

A gift opens the way for the giver
and ushers [her] into the presence
of the great.
Proverbs 18:16

I dropped Glenna off at the hospital Friday morning and headed straight to Dee’s. It sure would feel good to get rid of that money. Every time we entered the house nowadays, Glenna and I went straight to the laundry basket to be sure it hadn’t been disturbed. Anybody peeking in the window would have thought we worshiped at the Shrine of Clean Clothes.

Dee wore black slacks with a black eyelet top. Mourning? Or because she looked so wonderful in black? In my new khaki skirt and crisp green cotton sweater, I didn’t look bad until I saw Dee. Immediately I felt my hair wilt and my nails split.

She welcomed me like we were old friends. “Come in! I just made coffee.”

She gave a careless wave toward the sunroom table, strewn with cookbooks. “I was planning menus so I can go
to the grocery store. You know.” I didn’t dare tell her I didn’t know at all—most of the time I just go to the store and grab whatever looks good or easy.

She waved me to the love seat and fetched coffee in charming mugs decorated with berries. “The police seem to be looking for Harriet,” she said, settling on the chaise. “They dragged poor William off the golf course to go down and look at a body, but it wasn’t her. I just don’t understand where she could be.”

“I don’t either,” I told her, “but I’ve brought you three things. This is a list of compact disks Harriet borrowed from a girl at the center. If you find them, would you call Mr. Henly, the center director? He can figure out a way to get them to the right people.” Joe Riddley would be proud of me. For once, I wasn’t volunteering.

Dee looked at the list briefly then set it aside. “Julie will know more about this than I do. What were the other things?”

“The brochure from the acting school, and this.” I handed her the envelope. “I didn’t give it to you the first time I came, because I felt like I ought to give it straight to Harriet. Since she’s…not around, I think you ought to keep it for her.”

When Dee opened the envelope she was merely curious. When she drew out the money, she could have caught whole hummingbirds in her mouth. “This belonged to Harriet? Where on earth did she get it?”

“I talked to Harriet’s trustee yesterday. She said she and Harriet withdrew it on June fourth, for the acting class. I don’t know why Harriet left it at the center, but—”

Dee started shaking so hard I was afraid she’d fall off the chaise. She flung down the money, then she flung a fit. “Claire Scott was going to let Harriet spend three thousand dollars on a summer acting class?
Three thousand dollars?”
Her voice was shrill, her face flushed like an angry child’s. “I
told
that lawyer Claire doesn’t know the
first thing about teenagers. And she spends money like water. She can’t
possibly
make that much. How could Mama leave her in charge of all that money?” She nearly screamed the last three words, then came to an abrupt halt and gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I’m sorry, Laura. This isn’t your problem, and you’ve been real sweet to go to so much trouble for us. It’s just that whenever I think about Claire Scott having her greedy hands on Mama’s money, I could spit! I think Mama was getting a bit senile right before she died, but I couldn’t convince the lawyer.” She picked up the envelope and slapped it against her palm. “But I really appreciate everything you’ve done, and maybe the police will keep looking for Harriet.”

“Not unless you file a missing person’s report. You really need to do that, Dee.”

She bit her lip and thought about it, but then she shook her head. “Not yet. William won’t.” Her blue eyes were anxious, like the first time I saw them.

I opened my mouth to ask how much later it needed to get, but the phone rang. When Dee heard the voice on the other end, her face brightened. “Why, honey, how sweet of you to call. Are you having fun?” She paused. “Well, maybe a day or two, but not much longer than that. You’ve got to get ready for your trip with Gram.” Another pause. “I know, honey, I wish you didn’t either, but she’s gone to all this trouble—”

I touched her on the shoulder and motioned that I could find my own way out. I knew from experience that that conversation could take a while.

I sat with Jake that afternoon while Glenna went home to lie down a while. In the mid-afternoon he opened his eyes. “Isn’t it about time for me to be out chasing women?”

I lightly rattled his IV tube. “With Glenna on the other end of your leash? How’re you feeling?”

“Fine. Doc says I can go home in a few days if I’m good.”

“How soon does he expect you to be back to normal?”

He was already slipping back into sleep. “When’s the first Auburn game?”

“I’m glad you’ve got your priorities straight, Bubba.” He was already snoring.

I opened a book. He moaned in his sleep, and I gently touched his arm. Suddenly I remembered the first time I ever touched him. He was all red and wrinkly, wrapped in a soft white blanket. Daddy laid him in my lap, and I felt like I was holding the universe. Gracious! Was that really fifty-five years ago?

I blinked back tears. “I sure do love you, Bubba,” I murmured.

“Hmmm,” he said drowsily.

Did he hear? It didn’t matter. Everybody ought to say it now and then.

About four-thirty, Lou Ella and Nora Sykes tiptoed in. Lou Ella wore a simple gray linen dress. Nora wore camel slacks with a thick and silky cream top and heavy gold jewelry. She also carried a lovely basket of fruit with a big red bow. “We didn’t know if Jake was on oxygen, so Leila got something you all can nibble on, instead of flowers. How’s he doing?”

Jake opened one eye. “Well enough to hear every word you’re saying, so you’d better be careful.”

Nora bent over to kiss his cheek. “If you’re getting sassy, you must be almost well. Glad to see it, Jake.”

“Me, too,” he agreed weakly.

They stayed just a few minutes, then started to leave.

“If you’re taking Lou Ella, could you run MacLaren home, too?” Jake asked Nora.

“Glenna will be back right after supper,” I objected.

He glared. “I really don’t need you both riding herd on me day and night. I’d like a few minutes to moan and groan all by myself.”

If I were him, that’s what I’d be wanting, too, and Nora assured me that Glenna’s was “Just a hop, skip, and jump from Leila’s.”

“I’ve had Irmalene make a chicken casserole for you folks,” Lou Ella added as further incentive. “If you take me home first, Nora, Jake’s sister could take it with her. And drive through downtown so she can see it.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d been coming to Montgomery for forty years. As if it were my first time in town, she pointed out the state Capitol, the White House of the Confederacy, the church where Martin Luther King preached, and the new high rises built with state pension funds.

“I’m sure she knows all that,” Nora told her impatiently.

“She might not know about the pension funds,” Lou Ella insisted. “Man came down from the North—the North, mind you!—and got the bright idea of investing all the state pension funds in office buildings downtown. Prettied up the downtown and made a good investment at the same time. Pretty smart for a Yankee, don’t you think?”

“Very smart,” I agreed. “You really love Montgomery, don’t you?”

“I do! It’s a city, but retains the flavor of a little Southern country town. Not real sophisticated, but very charming. It’s also a political town—always has been—and I love politics. My husband was a state legislator, you know, and so was my son. And oh, we used to be so active! Football games, mystic society balls—in the season we went to a ball almost every weekend. We all loved to dance in those days. Today nobody knows how to dance, and the balls have become just huge cocktail parties.” She stopped again, then said wistfully, “I live very quietly now, of course, but sometimes I miss it all.”

Nora passed the governor’s mansion. A few doors down, she turned into the drive of a big white house sheltered by deep porches, wide old oaks, and magnolias. When I admired it, Lou Ella sighed. “I probably ought to sell and move into something smaller, but I just hate to give up my flowers and trees. This house was built in the eighteen nineties, and those oaks were here before the War Between the States. I planted that castor”—she pointed to a plant towering at the corner of the house near the drive—“the year we moved in.” She stopped and flapped one hand. “Oh, you don’t want to know all that. I’m just an old woman who lives alone and has to talk to anybody about everything. Come in while Nora gets the casserole.”

We went in the back door. Her kitchen was big and comfortable, with avocado green appliances. She probably hadn’t modernized since the sixties. I felt right at home and said so.

“It’s a lot of house to keep,” Nora pointed out while Lou Ella took a casserole from the refrigerator and tied it into a quilted carrier.

“But I’m fortunate to have good help,” Lou Ella replied. She explained to me, “Irmalene has been with me for nearly fifty years. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I don’t either,” Nora said, “and when Irmalene is gone, I don’t know what you’re
going
to do. You know it’s almost impossible to get servants these days.”

I could tell they’d had this conversation before, especially when Lou Ella replied shortly, “I’ll do what I have to do.”

Nora picked up the carrier. “Well, let’s be off. The only thing I ask, MacLaren, is that you don’t mention that wretched Harriet. She brought William and Dee more than enough grief to last a lifetime. I hate to say it, but they are better off without her.”

Lou Ella gave a little grunt of disapproval, but said nothing.